


Under the Stars

by Lilou88



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Nighttime, Stars, hand holding, unaddressed feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-14
Updated: 2014-04-14
Packaged: 2018-01-19 07:47:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1461439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilou88/pseuds/Lilou88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quiet conversation between two friends makes Zevran realize he may be starting to wish for more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> A product of a ficlet prompt meme run wild, I decided this fic was long enough to merit it's own posting rather than a chapter in my drabble collection. 
> 
> Tumblr user marigoldfaucet requested a story involving nighttime, stars and hand holding with Zevran and my Warden, Revka Tabris. This was the first time I've written Revka to any great extent beyond a one sentence story here and there, so I was very excited to try my hand at this. I hope you all enjoy her as much as I do, the prickly grump bucket that she is. :3 
> 
> Also, this is a bit irrelevant, but I suppose I should clarify since it's mentioned in this fic: Revka's left ear is shorter than her right because of an injury she received before joining the Wardens. She took a broken bottle to the head after losing her (extremely short) temper with a drunk human at a tavern who wouldn't take no for an answer. Started a bar fight and everything!

He finds her late that night when he wakes thirsty with an empty waterskin, still perched on top of the same log from hours before when he had bid her and the rest of their party a pleasant evening before retiring to his tent. The Warden – _Revka,_ he reminds himself, _she does not care for the title_ –sits alone now, the fire at her feet nothing more than hot embers though she pays the dying flames little mind, her head tilted upwards as she stares off into the night sky.

It is not his intention to linger, much less so to intrude on a moment so obviously meant to remain private. After all, Zevran knows first hand how difficult such things are to come by while traveling in a group large as this; the chances he has had for time spent quiet with his own thoughts having turned rare as silverite and twice as valuable. Yet discourteous as he knows it to be, he does not turn away.

There is something... _different_ about her _._ Her armor is gone, abandoned in favor of loose breeches and a modest tunic, and though he has seen her without her leathers before, the sight is still novel. But there is more to this than a simple change in clothing, a shift in the way she holds herself now that she thinks she is alone. The tension she carries like a second skin has all but drained away, the normally rod-straight line of her back now rounded. The sharpness in her face has eased as well, lines around her mouth and eyes having relaxed to leave her expression softened, smoothed. No hint of the stern focus or suspicion Zevran has come to expect from her is left, but though this lack of harshness in their leader's expression is enough to catch him off guard, he finds himself strangely gratified to know she is not made of so much steel as she would have others think.

Her abilities in perception, however, are another matter entirely, a fact Zevran is reminded of as soon as he makes to leave her to her musings. Sly as he may be he is not a man free from error, and while he himself remains silent the twig beneath his boot does not. Its quiet _crack_ under his weight is all the noise needed to catch her notice, back snapped rigid and shoulders firm once more as her attention flicks towards where he stands just beyond the reach of the hot coals' glow.

“I thought it might be you.” Her eyes narrow, then widen enough to roll.“For one of the Crow's finest, you certainly don't pay much attention to where you step, do you?”

One corner of his mouth quirks at the jab. “It is delightful to see you as well, _Warden_ ,” he says with overzealous sincerity, the last word given particular emphasis as he drags it slowly across his tongue. A grimace flashes across her face, the sight of it only making his smirk grow. “What has you awake at an hour late as this, I wonder?”

“I daresay I could ask the same question of you.”

Her brow furrows, the first signs of irritation showing in her eyes, but Zevran does not miss the way the tightness which had shot through her at his notice has begun to fade away as well. It is strange, he thinks as he watches her shoulders drop, to see how readily she allows her guard to lower around him now when short weeks before she would not so much as turn her back while he was near. Stranger still is the sense of prideful satisfaction which flares in his chest, though he is quick to tamp down on it before his expression can betray his surprise.

Instead he shrugs, arm raising to show her the empty waterskin dangling from his wrist. “And yourself?”

Her answer does not come at once, mouth pressing thin as she drags a slow, critical look over the whole of his face. What she searches for he does not know, though she seems to find it all the same, her eyes closing on a sigh before they open again, raising to the darkness above.

“The stars.”

“I see. Let me guess.” One step closer, then another, too late to turn back now that he finds his curiosity piqued. “Meditations on the vastness of the heavens and what purpose we hold in them?”

“Nothing quite so deep as that,” she says, a ghost of a grin flitting across her mouth, small and quick to vanish but still there all the same. “Admiring the view, that's all.”

“A worthy enough pastime in and of itself, I should think.”

“I suppose so.” She glances back down and towards him again, fingers tucking a strand of loose hair back behind the jagged edge of her shortened ear before they slide to rest at the back of her neck. “Would you, er...,” she starts to say, something oddly cautious, almost timid, hidden behind the usual firmness in her voice, “care to join me by any chance?”

_Yes,_ he thinks, the answer coming without hesitation. _Yes, I would like that very much._

“A chance at time spent alone with a lovely woman such as yourself?” he says blithely, another smirk offered in place of a smile as he moves to join her atop her log. “Why, it would be senselessness beyond forgiveness for me to refuse such an offer.”

She huffs, hand falling back to her lap as her nose wrinkles, exasperation a look far more suited to her than wariness. “Start in with that nonsense and you can forget I said a damned thing,” she says crisply as she looks back to the sky, though she still shifts to allow him a place by her side which he readily takes.

“Ah, but that is where you are wrong,” Zevran says, waterskin dropping to the ground by his feet and hands falling to rest against his thighs. “Pretend at callous indifference all you like, but you are not so cruel as to deny me such a simple pleasure as this.”

“Humph. That's what you'd like to think, isn't it?”

“No, it is what I know. You are a far easier person to read that you would care to admit, my friend.”

“Andraste's ass, Zevran. Just - shut it and let me enjoy this, all right?”

He laughs, but falls quiet as she wishes, his own attention turning upwards to what is in all honesty a breathtaking view. Thousands of pinpricks of light, more numerous than he could ever hope to count, scatter like grains of sand above their heads. They glow in shades of blues and whites, glittering gems against a night sky deep and dark as the finest swathes of velvet. For a time they do not speak, both of them content to let long minutes pass as they watch the stars shine, the silence between them an easy, comfortable thing.

The better part of an hour comes and goes before the hush breaks, linen rustling as Revka brings a hand to cover her mouth when she clears her throat. “I've actually been meaning to speak with you about something for a little while now.”

“Is that so?” Zevran asks, brow arching as his eyes drop to meet her gaze.

She nods. “To... apologize.”

“Truly? This I simply must hear.” It is difficult, but he manages not to laugh, though there is nothing he can do to help the amusement which slips into his voice.

It unfortunately does not escape her notice, her eyes sent rolling as she watches him struggle to keep his expression smooth. “Oh no, by all means. Don't make this any easier for me.” Another long pause, another sigh brimming with resignation. “Back when you first joined with us, I was positive letting you live was the single most idiotic decision I'd ever made in my life.”

“This apology is not starting off quite as I imagined it would.”

“If you'd let me finish it before you started scoffing at it that might not be the case.”

“Fair enough. Please, do carry on.”

Her hands are fussing in her lap now, the corners of her mouth drawn down as she watches her fingers play with a loose thread at the hem of her tunic. “To be perfectly honest, I don't think I'd ever regretted _not_ killing someone more. I thought that vow of yours was a load of bunk, that you were only buying yourself time before you found an opportunity to finish Alistair and I off.” She peers up to him now, the look she wears far from soft but rather that of staunch conviction. “And I was wrong. After everything we've been through, all the help you've given us... You've more than proven yourself and it's time I recognize that.”

He is watching her too intently to notice when she moves, glancing down only when he feels warmth set itself against the top of his knuckles. To his surprise she wraps her hand over and around his own, dark and freckled fingers stark against copper skin. She tightens her grip, the gentle press tugging at something buried deep within Zevran's chest.

“I'm sorry I doubted you.”

“Yes, well,” he says, words catching unexpectedly on a knot which has formed in the base of his throat, though he is relieved to see she does not seem to notice, “I daresay there are few who would fault you for holding such suspicions.”

“Perhaps. But that doesn't mean I can't apologize for having them.” She offers him a small grin at that, and he is very much aware now that the tug in his chest is quickly becoming a pleasant sort of ache. “Either way, I'm glad to have you here, Zevran. Even if I'm not always the best at showing it.”

“I...,” he says dumbly, thoughts stalling, unable to decide on an appropriate response for the first time as far back as he can remember, “am glad to be here as well.”

She does not say anything more, only gives his hand a final squeeze. For a moment he is tempted not to let her go, to link his fingers between her own as he finds better words to say how much her trust has come to mean to him... But then she has slipped free of his hold and the chance has passed him by, the dull pang of an opportunity lost settling in the pit of his stomach.

Her head tilts skyward, smile growing content as she stares up into the stars once more, eyes wide and gleaming with the reflection of their light. “They really are beautiful, aren't they?”

“Yes,” Zevran says quietly. “Beautiful.”


End file.
